#her success rate seemed to be a lot higher with the old lady disguises

[batbabydaily]

batman #3: the batman vs the cat-woman

[forasecondtherewedwon]

How Luscious Lies

Fandom: Dickinson Rating: T Word Count: 1331

Summary: Lavinia interrupts Emily's introspection for a late-night chat. Contemplating infidelity? #relatable

“Emily,” a voice hissed.

Emily’s head swirled with the smoke and fumes that were the toxic effluence of her creative efforts. The spirits sought her; her talent reached for her from an intangible plane, smothering and harassing her higher senses while resuscitating her passion. The words moved within her with the very abandon of a lover. Her prostration continued.

“Let the voices come,” she murmured, eyes roving the ceiling. “I am so, so close to becoming truly lost.”

Lost in the way Mr. Olmsted had meant. Lost within the process, not separated from it as though blocked by taxus baccata. The poisonous hedges of her mind had been razed—paths cleared, branches stripped—and though the clouds were thick and heady, the ground was fertile. Her poems were ready to be sown and ripe to be plucked in the same instant. Clearly, this was why her fantasy of Mr. Bowles had been so real, such a convincing fever directed her brain.

“Emily.”

“I’m ready,” she swore. “I have paper here in my hand.”

Her heart raced.

“Hey, Emily.”

Emily deflated. With her head hanging over the edge of the bed, she watched her sister enter the room upside-down.

“You still awake? I saw the light of your candle under the door,” Lavinia explained.

“Yes,” Emily grunted. “Why are you still up? I thought you would’ve gone to bed hours ago, since you couldn’t go to Sue’s salon.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I did go to bed…”

“Midnight snack?” Emily guessed.

“You know it,” Lavinia enthused, then sobered, stepping into the bedroom and shutting the door behind her. “I mean, no, I just wanted to hear about the party.”

Emily clambered upright to sit on the bed with her legs tucked to the side. About to answer, she paused and narrowed her eyes at her sister.

“You don’t normally sleep with your hair covered.”

Lavinia whisked the lace from the top of her head and hid it behind her back, clutched in both hands.

“Whoops, no, I still don’t,” she said. “But hey, does it make you think of a Spanish mantilla at all? Like, maybe if I got some black lace instead?”

“A mantilla?”

“Yeah, they’re totally having a moment right now. I think Jane has something to do with it. Rich widows with their dead husbands and all the black lace they want. Lucky,” Lavinia grumbled, plopping down on the edge of the bed next to Emily and smoothing her own white lace in her lap. She shrugged. “Anyway, how was Sue’s thing?”

“Not… what I was expecting. It’s left me with a lot to think about.” She offered her sister a sheepish smile.

“Like what?” Lavinia dropped her elbows to her knees and cupped her face in her hands, waiting.

Emily sighed, contemplating how much to reveal. How no one takes me seriously as a poet, she considered saying. How, even if I do succeed, many people seem likely to attribute that success to a presumed intimate attachment to Mr. Bowles.

“Infidelity,” she found herself saying. She touched her chest, then slid her hand to her throat, testing the solidity of her recent illusion. The way her phantom editor had removed her necklace hung on her more palpably than the necklace itself had.

“Totally,” her sister gushed. “That was on my mind tonight too.”

Emily smiled at the chance of being understood.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Ship was reading The Scarlet Letter and one thing just led to another and I found myself mounting… um…” Lavinia’s voice choked off and Emily frowned at her, concerned, but her sister resumed with a reassuring flutter of her hand. “I found myself mounting an analysis of the text. You know, to really get into Hester Prynne’s character.”

“That sounds… stimulating,” Emily decided. Maybe she should’ve embraced the Dickinson way and stayed in with her family tonight. True, she may have had regrets about missing her chance to be shown off as a soon-to-be-published poet, but it certainly would have made for a less complicated evening. “For something that takes two people, affairs are so one-sided. The aftermath, I mean.”

“That is so true. They always blame the woman and it’s like, nobody even mentions if she had a good time. It’s just about scorning her and shaming her and treating her like a freak just because she wanted something.”

“Exactly! Aren’t women allowed to want anything?!” Emily exclaimed.

“Not in books written by men.”

“Men don’t want to accept that love can make women interesting. It inspires us. Sometimes it’s all we have,” she finished softly, thinking of all the poems she’d had Maggie carry over to the Evergreens, all addressed to Sue, some blatantly about Sue, if they found their way into the hands of an attentive reader.

“Or the not being in love,” Lavinia muttered, drawing Emily’s attention from memories full of the sound of paper squares shuffling together in a basket.

“What was that?”

“Not being in love,” her sister said. She raised her chin defiantly. “A woman might not even want to fall in love. Can’t she just have fun and see where things go? Maybe I don’t wanna novels-and-chill like an old married lady. Maybe I just wanna make out a lot and not wake up with a guy in my bed taking up the space that’s reserved for my cat.”

“…Right.”

“And if the guy says he feels used, I think that’s just the misdiagnosis of a woman finally getting something out of the relationship.”

Emily nodded emphatically, boarding her sister’s train of thought at this station. She badly wanted the world to read her words and know that she was the one who had written them. She also wanted to respect Mary Bowles. And yet, with this evening’s fantasizing, Emily had realized how comfortable she was with a fictional alternative. If everyone assumed she was getting into Mr. Bowles’s paper because he had gotten into her bed, what was the harm in indulging? In her mind only, of course, though her heart still beat faster remembering her editor was spending the night at her brother’s house next door.

This might be the only way, ever. To always be someone who loved or lusted and was not taken seriously in return. She had loved Sue before Austin did and would love her all her life. How could that be disloyal? Or her fascination with Mr. Bowles, spurred on by the excitement of seeing her words printed in The Springfield Republican? Surely that demonstrated a fervent devotion to her craft? A desire adjacent to the accomplishment of one of her dreams? Real infidelity, Emily thought, could only be enacted against oneself. Anything else was simply… living.

Lavinia flopped onto her back.

“I don’t know how Ship can say he feels used when he literally wants to marry me so I can be his live-in servant.”

“His wife?”

“That’s what I said.”

Emily sighed for herself and her sister. She turned her head to look down at her.

“Do you wanna hear more about the salon?”

“God yes. What did Sue wear? Did anybody try to suck up to you? Were there any famous people there? Have our horrible cousins dug any massive holes around their property? If you tell me one of the guests fell into a hole and I wasn’t there to see that, I may actually die.”

Breathing deeply, Emily set aside her pages and prepared a different recitation. Slowly, she unfolded the event to her sister in words. While Lavinia listened, she sat up to take down Emily’s hair and unfasten the back of her dress. Emily had looked the part for the salon—many people had said as much—but it was just a role, a disguise, not quite an infidelity, though something that had definitely provoked her innermost uncertainties and made her feel watched in every room, at every moment.

Her sister hmmed and awwed and Emily dictated the evening. She told it almost faithfully.

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter Two

*not my gif* I’m using a Javi one because the vibes match the chapter, sue me

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: Swearing (like a lot, I’m sorry), dark themes, attempted drugging, mentions of drugs and alcohol, canon-typical violence, death of a background character, mention of blood Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] Cross-posted to AO3

A/N: yeah I’ve got no chill this week apparently

Chapter Two

A long five weeks pass without any major incidents. There were sightings around town of the mysterious Mandalorian, but everyone went out of their way to stay off his war path. He was busy, sticking his nose in many known crypto communities and businesses. The hunter leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. It was obvious he was getting information for someone, but no one had been able to locate an informant yet. With how accurate his targeting was the assumption was he had another crypto tipping him off, though others were skeptical. Who in the right mind would help a Mandalorian? Everyone was on edge; five weeks was too long for a lone wanderer to stick around and the longer he was in town the higher the risk there would be another run-in. The only upside to it all was that even after all this time he was still alone.

You went about work as close to normal as possible. Zachriel was still in the wind so whatever lead he could have given you was moot for now. There were plenty of other bounties to work, plenty of other criminals and scum to deal with. The jobs went smoothly but you could not help but look over your shoulder every step of the way. It was like you were expecting the Mandalorian to burst through the door again, try to kill you for doing your job. Even after five weeks the paranoia was still there. You were getting rather tired of it. Kira was too. She’d gone on about it all afternoon, saying your stress was stressing her out. Insisted you needed to relax. It had been weeks, you lived and worked in a large city, you did not need to worry about seeing the Mandalorian again. So, with cash in hand from a successful bounty Kira had convinced you to come out for a bit and unwind. Some greasy food and drinks in a mediocre pub was apparently the cure for what ailed you. It had been too long since you’d spent time together outside of work, so you agreed, sliding onto the barstool next to Kira at the waterfront pub.

“See? You don’t spontaneously combust when you take a break,” Kira jokes, bumping shoulders.

Rolling your eyes, you flag down a bartender. “Just like you don’t spontaneously burst into flames when you come into work.”

“Rude. Not everyone is a workaholic like you,” the woman pouts. “Plus, I’ve got a niece to look after. Ally’s shop has been doing well so I get to babysit more.”

“That’s good to hear! I’m always saying I need to stop by more, get some flowers for the house.”

“Ally would love to see you, I’m sure. Kayla too. She misses her other aunties.”

“I miss the little angel too. I’ll have to come by next time you’re watching her.” You adored the little bundle of energy that was Kira’s niece. Going on five years old she was incredibly well behaved and beyond sharp. Kira credited her mixed bloodline, thinking Kayla carried more magic in her blood that her mother. Not that Ally didn’t have a little something, there was no way her success as a florist wasn’t in part due to her fey bloodline.

“You can take her instead-” Kira grins- “little squirt tiring you out might do you some good.”

“Not sure why you think wearing me out would be a good idea-” you pause as the grinning bartender approaches.

“What can I get you lovely ladies?”

You shiver as the man blatantly looks both of you over. Kira rolls her eyes at him before passing along your orders.

“This is why I hate going out.”

Kira makes a gagging face when the pasty man turns his back to you. “I can’t blame you there.”

Sighing you glance out over the growing pub crowd. It was still early in the evening; you were sure the place would fill up soon and you would rather finish up and go home before that happened.

There’s a strange prickle of familiarity as your gaze sweeps over the crowd gathered in the back corner by the pool tables. You look over the group again, picking out a broad-shouldered man with a mop of dark curls and neatly trimmed facial hair.

The universe had it out for you, didn’t it?

Kira picks up on your sudden tension, “what’s wrong?”

Spinning back around to the bar you bury your face in your hands. “Five o’clock. Heavy grey jacket, dark curls and facial hair.”

The blonde fakes a laugh, causally looking out over the crowd, “spotted him.”

“That’s the Mando from Lunar.”

“Well shit.” Kira turns back to you, “do you think he’ll recognize you?”

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth you nod. “If I can pick him out of a crowd my best guess is, he could do the same to me.” It was not as if you’d been wearing anything to disguise your identity when you’d gone to Lunar.

Kira groans.

“We need to leave. Neither of us are armed enough to deal with a Mandalorian.”

“We’ll attract too much attention,” Kira shakes her head. “Just keep your back turned. We’ll have our drinks and then we can leave.”

You were so screwed.

“It’ll be fine. He won’t attack us in public.”

Kira’s point is not all that reassuring. He’d shot at you feet from a crowded crypto-bar. Didn’t seem all that worried about it then either.

With perfectly awful timing the bartender returns, grin still plastered on his face. He passes you both your drinks with a wink, “enjoy ladies.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, absentmindedly passing him a few dollars in tip.

Swirling the drink in one hand you stare vacantly at the glass, no longer in the mood for alcohol. Kira gags at the retreating mans back again. You can’t help but give a halfhearted chuckle at her antics. She always was one to diffuse tense situations.

Kira goes to take a sip of her drink, a sharp acidic odor reaching you as she raises her glass to her lips. You nearly slam her hand down onto the bar top to stop her.

“What in the actual fuck?” She hisses at you.

Wordlessly you swirl her glass around, look for the source of the smell. The slight tinkling against the glass is barely noticeable above the din of the pub crowd.

The bartender was more than just a sleaze.

“There-” you swirl the glass around for her so she can see the last of the opaque orb dissolving into her drink- “succubus tears.”

Human date rape drugs were bad enough. Crypto drugs were beyond insidious in their effects. Was this what the Mandalorian was here about?

Kira’s lip curls into a snarl, “son of a bitch.”

“I’d heard there was something hanky going on in the neighborhood, but his face isn’t on any of the bounty lists.”

If looks could kill the bartender would be long dead from Kira’s piercing gaze. Not that she wouldn’t actually kill him with her bare hands without so much as a second thought. “I’m sure I’d remember his ugly mug if it was. Drugging patrons’ drinks, fucking monster in a target rich environment.”

.

He had been kicking around the pub for over an hour when Din began to doubt Karga’s information. There had been more than a handful of women who had come and gone at the bar with nothing out of the ordinary occurring. Din wondered if Karga was just trying to get rid of some local competition. The police reports he’d supplied Din with were the only reason he stuck around. Six women had disappeared in the last three weeks, all of them had last been seen at the bar. The bartender on shift was a known narcotics dealer but the police had not been able to pin anything on him. Karga had suggested maybe he was using some sort of drug humans wouldn’t know how to look or test for. It was entirely possible. So, Din kept sipping at his beer, watching the crowd with his back to the wall.

A sudden movement at the far end of the counter caught his eye. The two women who had come in maybe ten or so minutes ago were talking rather hurriedly, leaning in with their gazes fixed on the bartender. Din perked up when the man noticed their stares. He could see the sweat forming on the man’s brow from his vantage point. Had these two caught him in the act?

Eyes glued to the floor the bartender skitters away to the back of the venue, Din moves to follow, only pausing when he notices the two women also rushing after him. The blonde has a piercing gaze that could kill, only confirming his theory. Din’s whole body tenses when he catches the profile of the second woman, the same cold look on her face as when she stared him down, sword in hand.

What was she doing here? What was she doing with his suspect? Again.

Karga had looked into her after the events at Lunar but had come up empty. He didn’t even have a name for the mysterious woman, just a series of security cam photos from outside the club every few months over the past few years. She was obviously doing business with the bar owner but Karga had been right, she left him with more questions than answers.

Din pauses for a moment before following the three into the back. He clears what appears to be a storeroom and the office before coming up on a busted loading dock door.

“You know all we wanted was the night off.”

Din inches through the dark dock, following the voices to the back alley.

“Then walk away, bitch!”

Crouching behind a pillar Din can make out most of the scene. The bartender stands next to a second, knife-wielding man with greasy grey hair. The mystery woman and her friend both have swords drawn and pissed off looks in their eyes.

“Slayers don’t walk away until the bounty’s dead. You should know that,” the blonde taunts.

Slayers? Bounties?

“You two are gonna’ be the dead ones!” the bartender shouts, pulling a handgun out of thin air, and aiming for the pair.

Din allows himself a moment of awe as the women spring into action. They’re well trained and comfortable with the weapons they wield. Swords were not Din’s preferred choice for a gunfight but the two were fast. Inhumanly fast. Although Din had yet to identify what species they were, he knew they were not human.

Despite the inherent disadvantage the blonde woman appeared to be fending off the bartender without too much sweat. His mystery woman on the other hand almost appeared to be toying with the accomplice. She had him cornered and disarmed; the corner of her lips ever so slightly quirked up.

“Last chance to surrender or I’m collecting the bounty on your corpse.”

.

They never surrender but you offer anyways. If you didn’t have to deal with a dead body, you’d gladly take it. The idea was particularly tempting considering you were not exactly prepared to dispose of a body right now.

The man snarls and gnashes his inhuman teeth at you, façade slipping off his visage. You’d take that as a ‘no’ on the surrender.

“I hate imps,” you mutter, lunging at the bounty. A gunshot echoes through the alley as your sword pierces the heart of your bounty.

“Shit!” Kira spits, her blade clattering on the pavement.

“Serves you right, bitch!”

You spin around to find the bartender aiming for Kira’s head, feral grin splitting across his face as she clutches a now-bleeding arm to her chest. No matter how fast you were, you couldn’t get to him before he pulled the trigger. What a great situation you two had unknowingly walked in on.

Every part of you freezes as another shot reverberates in the alley. It takes you a moment to process it wasn’t aimed at Kira.

The bartender stumbles back, hands scrambling to put pressure on the new hole in his leg. You track backwards to find the Mandalorian standing on the loading dock, smoking gun hanging loose in one hand.

“Fuck,” Kira notices him too, clumsily grabbing at her sword with one hand.

Before you can blink, you’re at her side, helping to put pressure on her upper arm. The wound doesn’t look life threatening but that doesn’t mean you want to wait around for blood loss to kick in. You need to get Kira back to the clinic.

“So, what, the Mando is gonna try and kill us now?” At least she’s lucid enough to have an attitude.

“Mando?” The bartender’s eyes go wide, “hell no.” And he was gone, his blood the on the pavement the only indicator he had occupied the space before you’d blinked. Damn handy dark magic.

Kira rolls her eyes, “coward.”

The Mandalorian scoffs, dark gaze still trained on the two of you.

“What?” you snap back. Two run-ins, you were beyond sick of this guy.

“Since when do you go around killing your own kind?” His gaze flickers back to the body behind you like he could not believe you’d skewered a man through the heart moments ago.

“First off, don’t lump us in with criminal’s-” you sneer- “two, it’s our job.”

You wish you could savor the look of pure confusion that passes over his features, but you are too tuned in to the way his grip tightens around his gun.

“You hunters think just because you know we exist, you know everything,” Kira snickers.

Shaking your head, you try to put yourself in between Kira and the armed man who had no qualms with shooting cryptos. This was not the time for Kira’s abrasive personality. “We’re not your enemy, Mandalorian. Slayers and hunter have essentially the same goal.” That was a bit of stretch but you couldn’t care less. The blood running down Kira’s arm was your first priority.

Kira scoffs, “nah, (Y/N), they kill indiscriminately- they’re the enemy.”

Mando quirks an eyebrow but does not make any move to shoot or approach.

“Kira, enough. We aren’t allowed to kill humas. That’s that.”

She rolls her eyes, “he’s tried to kill you twice. I think that counts.”

“He’s not trying to kill me right now-” you glance back at him- “right?”

The Mandalorian shrugs but slides his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. Maybe this day wasn’t completely hopeless after all.